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Obi-Wan wraps another thick, woolly scarf around his Padawan's neck, tying off the ends with a flourish. Nodding in satisfaction, he steps back to admire his work.
Bright blue eyes peer back at him from between a gap in the wool. If Obi-Wan’s being honest with himself, he may have gone a little overboard. Anakin is more padding than human at this point, bundled up in so many layers it’s a miracle the poor boy is still standing. In addition to the traditional Jedi Padawan robes, Anakin is wearing the thickest snowsuit Obi-Wan could get his hands on, and the bright red fabric clashes horribly with the mish-mash of patterns and colours making up the rest of his outfit.
Though his eyes may be the only visible part of his face Anakin has no problem expressing his exasperation. Reaching out, Obi-Wan adjusts the scarves to reveal the rest of his Padawan's face.
“Obi-Wan!” The small boy gasps, puffing out his cheeks, “I could barely breathe!” Obi-Wan doesn’t bother to suppress a snort of amusement, well used to Anakin’s dramatics at this point. Small tufts of blond hair peek out from under his woolly hat so Obi-Wan tucks those back in as well.
“Sorry about that, Padawan”, Obi-Wan whispers, taking the opportunity to bop Anakin’s nose when his hand can’t be batted away. Anakin scrunches his face in response, clumsily projecting his annoyance along their training bond. Obi-Wan sends back a trickle of affection, heart softening even further when it’s met with a sharp, swirling burst of joy.
Up front of the ship Master Yarael Poof drones on undisturbed, seemingly uncaring his audience's attention is long lost. From what little Obi-Wan heard, it seems the speech hasn’t changed from when he was in Anakin’s place on his first trip to Ilum. They’ve only just reached the “flesh-eating ice bacteria” section of the talk, so Obi-Wan can afford to focus his full attention on the small boy hovering at his elbow.
“Anakin”, He speaks quietly beneath the thrum of the engine, “Why don’t you go and join your agemates for the rest of the journey? Now is the perfect chance to get to know them.”
“But… I want to stay with you.” Anakin hasn’t had much of a chance to interact with his peers since joining the Jedi. They’ve both been busy dealing with the aftermath of Naboo, adjusting Anakin to life in the Temple, and getting used to the new bond. It’s obvious he’s anxious to leave Obi-Wan’s side, but as much as Obi-Wan is just as reluctant to let him out of sight, it’s more important that Anakin makes some friends his own age.
“Oh Ani, I know it’s frightening but I can assure you, you’ll all be friends in no time”, He tries to project as much certainty into his voice as possible. It’s clear that Anakin doesn’t really believe him but he trusts Obi-Wan not to steer him wrong. “Now go on, I’ll be right over here.”
Anakin grumbles but compiles, a slight nudge from Obi-Wan setting him in motion. The snow suit almost comically restricts his movements and he vaguely resembles a porg shuffling across the ship. Obi-Wan smiles encouragingly when Anakin glances back, making a subtle “go on” motion with his hands. Reluctance obvious in the hunch of his shoulders, Anakin sidles up beside a tall Iktotchi initiate. There was no need to worry though, as the younglings fold him into the group immediately and soon Anakin is enthusiastically caught up in whatever debate is raging on.
A voice from his elbow jerks Obi-Wan back from his thoughts, “Unbecoming of a Jedi Master, pride is.”
“What the fuck-”
Thwack!
“Oh you sith-spitting, ugly little-”, Obi-Wan clutches at his injured shin, letting out a stream of curses that would put a pirate to shame.
Another strike leaves Obi-Wan collapsed on the cold durasteel floor, gazing up in shock at Master Yoda’s face looming over him. “Watch your language, you should”, He chuckles, brandishing his stick in warning, “Impressionable younglings, there are.” The old Masters tone is smug, and Obi-Wan can hear giggles coming from the direction he’d sent Anakin. Swallowing down his instinctive response Obi-Wan settles for an insincere apology instead, knowing when he’s outmatched.
Master Yoda harrumphs in satisfaction and hobbles off to the gaggle of younglings who have very obviously not not been watching the whole exchange. Master Poof reaches the “Ice-pits of doom” section of his talk, and the lone two initiates still paying attention gasp fearfully and clutch at each other's robes.
After allowing his poor shins (and his ego) to recover, Obi-Wan hauls himself back onto his feet just in time for the shuttle to land. Almost immediately he is swept back onto his ass as a wave of cabin-fevered younglings flood towards where their creche Masters wait.
Anakin appears above him, sans a few items of clothing. As he stands, Obi-Wan can spot the missing polka-dot scarf wrapped around a small Twi’lek boy. Another youngling sports a pair of fluffy ear-muffs, the shade of purple clashing horribly with her skin.
Everyone arranges themselves into a loose semi-circle behind Master Yoda, who at some point has donned his own snow suit. The old Master glances over his shoulder and shoots a wink at Anakin, before gesturing for the ramp to be lowered.
Laughing, Obi-Wan rests a hand on his Padawan's shoulder and squeezes gently through the layers of fabric. Anakin leans into the touch as the shuttle ramp rumbles open, slowly lowering to reveal the first glimpses of Ilum. Obi-Wan braces himself against the frigid winds as they whip through the gap, all warmth instantly leached from his body. Beside him, Anakin burrows deeper into his clothes.
The shuttle ramp settles against the crystallised ground with a muffled thump. A small, gloved hand slips into his and Obi-Wan tucks a smile into his hood. Side by side, Master and Padawan venture into the icy tundra.